


Odds of Survival

by All_the_Queer



Category: Original Work
Genre: But what else is new?, Crack, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Forbidden Love, Gay Character, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Magic is Real, Makeouts, Power Imbalance, Sadism, Spoilers ahead:, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Elements, Temperature Play, Vampires, and it's right behind you!, oddly wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_the_Queer/pseuds/All_the_Queer
Summary: "Guard the cemetery," they said. "It'll be easy," they said.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Odds of Survival

**Author's Note:**

> This is very strange, I admit it.

Elliot’s job was a nightmare. Not in the _Oh God please get me out of this hell_ kind of way. No, it was more of like _Oh God if you have any mercy you’ll let me keel over right here and die of boredom._ It was so dull. And occasionally borderline uncomfortable. But only occasionally.

He walked around the dark cemetery, pacing his assigned route.

“'Get out there, Elliot. Do your job, Elliot.'” He echoed his boss snarkily, something he wouldn’t be allowed to do in-person. So he did it here. He picked his way along, searching for a good rock to kick. At least it would pass the time and maybe even make a cool noise. “'It’s important, Elliot.'”

He rolled a smooth rock into place on the walkway and wound up to deliver the best kick of his goddamn life.

“'You have to check everywhere, Elliot.' Yeah, _okay.”_

His steel-toed black boot made contact. A satisfying _crack_ and the tiny rock was flying. Okay, maybe his job wasn’t so bad. At least he got to kick stuff unsupervised.

“'Make sure no one finds us, Elliot.'”

He watched it as far as he could in the darkness.

“'Take care of intruders, Elliot.'”

A sound that definitely wasn’t stone-kicking caught his attention. His ears perked up.

This is where things could get uncomfortable.

Elliot hauled his weighted baseball bat onto his shoulder and took off like a bullet in the direction of the steps.

He flew through the grass, wet dew kicking up into the air. But he was silent. It was part of the job description. Whatever poor soul had decided to investigate a creepy cemetery at night had it coming, honestly. Hopefully it was just a wild animal again. But… that wasn’t always the case. Better safe than sorry.

He arrived in front of a small altar tomb, one of the many structures adorning wavy green hills in this fenced-in area for the dead. Well, the dead and Elliot, apparently.

Was he technically dead? He didn’t think so. No, he was still breathing, right? He might not possess much else to convince someone of the fact that he was alive, but he could still breathe. He drew air in, a faint dew aroma pushing through his muted senses, and let it out again. He could definitely breathe. That meant he was alive. He gripped the bat. His lazy blood pumped a little quicker.

Elliot zeroed-in on the sounds. Yeah, it was larger than any squirrels or foxes. The mystery thing was quiet, though. As if they knew they weren’t alone.

Well, that was fine. Elliot could probably take them, whatever they were. They didn’t sound too sturdy, shuffling around like that.

He lifted the cold metal bat off his shoulder and gripped it with both hands, ready to swing. Only if the need arose, of course. “Hey there.” He tested.

The sounds stopped.

His job might be shitty and boring, but he kind of loved this part of it. The slight moment of fear in his victims before he had to either chase whoever-the-fuck off the property or… dispose of them. It was delicious in a way that he couldn’t get from food anymore. He thought that he’d felt like this even before the incident, but… he couldn’t really be sure. Memory could be a funny thing.

He got an answer from the trespasser, which was unusual. Usually they just ran, or tried to. But this time a small, thin voice of a person about his age, clearly still ready to bolt the hell outta there, spoke up. “Listen, please.”

Elliot got unreasonably excited. Talking to someone? At his lonesome job?? Unlikely. Okay, he had to make this good. “Oh, I’m listening.” He agreed. Maybe it was just his isolation talking but something about that voice was… alluring. He could wait to strike for a bit. Just long enough to have a fun conversation. At the same time Elliot thought he should be fair with them at least, adding, “Just don’t try anything funny. You might spook me and I’d probably kill you by accident. But I’m listening.”

A small silence. “Okay. Okay.”

In spite of himself, Elliot decided he liked this person. He didn’t know what it was, but that voice just really got to him. It was so delicate and pretty, like an angel. The irony of liking something angelic wasn’t lost on him. He couldn’t even be in the same room as a cross without bursting out in hives.

“Just… Okay, I know I’m not supposed to be here.”

 _Huh,_ That might be bad news for Mx. whoever-the-fuck. People who knew they were in danger were usually privy to more information than Elliot’s bosses wanted. _Damn it. And I was starting to like you, too._

“Please, I… don’t even want to be here.”

He snorted, arms relaxing slightly. The bat lowered. “Yeah, join the club.”

“There’s a clu--? You know what, never mind. I’m new to this whole _magic_ thing so I don’t really know what’s going on, but please. They’ll kill me if I don’t do this.”

This kid _must_ be new if they didn’t know _Elliot_ would have to kill them for getting caught anyway. But he decided to play along for a bit. Wouldn’t make much difference. Elliot wouldn’t let himself get too attached. That’s probably why he had this job. No matter how much he liked them, he knew they had to go. “And what, exactly, are you doing?”

“See, I don’t think I should tell y--”

“I’ve listened to you. Now _you_ listen to me, okay?” Elliot wasn’t about to hear a stupid excuse, especially not in that pretty voice. Besides, they clearly were out of their depth so anything they made up would probably miss every relevant point. He didn’t like that voice enough to be generous like that. Excuses would always be annoying.

“...Okay.”

Good. They seemed to get it. “I’ll probably have to kill you, so I think it would be smarter for you to focus on making _me_ happy--you know, the one who can end you right now--instead of someone else who _might_ kill you later.” He reasoned honestly, and maybe a little selfishly.

“That is… a fair point.” Came the meek reply.

Elliot’s lips curved into a smile. He couldn’t try to suppress it. They sounded so nice when they complied. “So what are you doing?”

“I’m… copying down some symbols?” Their voice shook.

From inside _this_ building? Ooof, that was a no-no. Probably would have to do the killing for sure. Oh well. Might as well try to find out more about whoever’s plan was going to use that magic. “What for?”

“I don’t know!” The voice panicked, they sounded like they were close to tears. Something in Elliot’s cold heart twisted.

He clicked his tongue sadly. “I’ll be honest with you-- uh, what’s your name?”

“...Owen.”

 _“Owen._ Nice.” Pretty. He considered. “Pronouns?”

“Why do you even--”

“I’m a murderer, not a monster.” Okay, that might have not been entirely true. He wasn’t exactly _not_ a monster.

“...He/him.”

“Perfect.”

A gulp was audible. “P--Perfect?”

He decided to explain, since he was this deep already and the conversation would never leave this building anyway. “He/hims always taste better to me.” So much for being a cold-blooded killer. Here he was fraternizing with his victim. He wasn’t exactly flirting, but who could tell anymore? Elliot, himself, never could tell.

“Are you gonna _eat_ me?!” Owen squeaked and that tinge of fear was _doing things_ for Elliot.

“I’ll be honest with you, _Owen.”_ He purred, letting the new name flow gently off his tongue, really tasting it. He liked the flavor. “Your odds of survival are not looking good.”

A small whimper bounced off the walls of the tomb. Elliot's stomach flipped in excitement. “Please, sir. I--”

“Call me Elliot. It’s okay.” He cooed, finally letting himself advance on the doorway. Time to get to work. He really wasn’t going to like this. Well, he would probably enjoy the eating part. Just not the killing part. Actually, he liked killing, so he would probably like that, too. But he would be mournful of the fact that Owen would be gone afterwards. Other than that, it might be kinda fun. He always did have a thing for pain. _Others’_ pain, to be exact.

Owen must have heard the approach because there was scrambling from inside and a rustling of papers.

Elliot felt the power of causing chaos before even entering a room fluttering in his stomach. Not that he wasn’t physically powerful already. But this was a different kind of power. In a bout of enthusiasm, he rounded the stone corner and faced the other for the first time.

He knew the voice was good, but this was insane. It was almost a crime to kill someone this stunning. Owen’s dark hair stuck up at every conceivable angle, nose and cheeks bitten red from what must have been the chill of the night. His features were soft and curved and would probably be adorable if he wasn’t trying to figure some way to kill his attacker right back. Elliot thought it was still pretty cute. From his dishevelled appearance from his ripped clothes to his messy hair, clearly this hadn’t been Owen’s day.

Elliot caught his breath. He had indeed been human not too long ago. And yes, he had _indeed_ had crushes before.

Owen’s delicate frame pressed up against the wall across from the doorway. His notebook and pencil spilled the rest of the way onto the ground with a soft thud, joining a pile of loose paper dropped earlier. Instead of picking them up, his eyes darted around, most likely for a weapon of some kind.

Sure, Elliot only had a bat, but… he would win no matter what. He found that he was more than a match for most people. Another reason he got this job.

Owen spluttered. “Don’t come any closer!”

A laugh bubbled out of him softly despite the attempts to cover it up. “Or what?” He took a step.

Owen flinched.

“Yeah.” He confirmed, crossing the room like he’d crossed the field before, moving fast enough to almost teleport to Owen’s side. “Thought so.”

He tripped away, falling over in shock. People usually became shocked when he revealed his speed. Owen must have hit something hard because a sharp cry bounced off the stone walls.

 _Oh wow._ It occurred to Elliot that he really didn’t want to kill Owen. He seemed like an okay guy--not to mention unreasonably attractive--but that sound… had kinda sealed the deal. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to hear it louder. Wanted to be the one to make Owen cry out.

Like he suspected, it would be fun killing Owen. But he would absolutely miss the guy afterwards.

“I’m going to feed on you. Do you know what that means?”

Color drained from Owen’s face, eyes wide as saucers.

He watched the blood’s retreat with disappointment. _What a shame._

Owen nodded stiffly. “You’re going to… eat me.”

Elliot bit his lip thoughtfully. _How to put it…_ “Alright. I’ll let it slide since you’re new. You’ve heard of vampires, right?”

Owen sniffled.

“I’ll take that as a yes. It means I feed on people. It doesn’t kill them, but it does take blood. _A lot_ of blood. You’ve heard of blood, I reckon.” He was playing with his food, he knew that. It was in poor taste. But it was so fun seeing his victims' eyes on the verge of tears.

Owen was frozen in place with fear. Like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. Or some poor soul stuck in an alien tractor beam.

Elliot continued giddily, already feeding on the pure horror radiating off his prey. That wasn’t normal for vampires. It was just Elliot who did weird shit like this. He knew it. What was anybody gonna do about it? Sue him? “You’ll probably pass out from it. And afterwards, while you’re out cold, I’ll have to kill you. But that’s less a vampire thing and more of a you-got-mixed-up-in-a-very-dangerous-type-of-forbidden-magic thing.” He twirled the heavy bat with ease. “And you’re trying to steal a spell from my boss."

“Stealing?” He squeaked, apparently regaining motor functions and shuffling backwards until he hit a wall. Elliot followed casually. Owen was easy to catch. Not much of a threat.

It seemed like he really _didn’t_ know what he was doing after all. _Fucking tragic._ Especially considering how much of a dreamboat this guy was. “Yeah, sorry about that.” Elliot leaned over the huddled mass of limbs, planting heavy boots on either side of sprawled legs. “Looks like whoever sent you left out some vital info.”

“Yeah…” Owen gave up struggling, just pressed himself up against the stone wall and wiggled uncomfortably. He looked very sad for some reason. Elliot tried to stop himself from feeling sad, too. He convinced himself that Owen not fighting back was good. If he did fight back, it would just make feeding harder.

Still, he squatted down, hovering above Owen. He took the boy’s chin in hand. Tilted his head up. “You really are _so_ handsome, it’s not fair.”

This apparently was not what Owen was expecting. He giggled nervously. “...Thank you?”

And _that_ was not what Elliot was expecting.

He… laughed?

And it was cute?

Damn it.

He kneeled, depositing himself--against his better judgement--on top of his victim’s lap and caging him in greedily. “You’re welcome, _Owen.”_

“Does that mean you’ll let me go?” His asked pessimistically.

“That’s a no. Sorry.” Elliot reached forward gently--more gently than the situation warranted--and fiddled with Owen’s top shirt buttons.

“Figured.” His eyes tried to follow the movement, looking down in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You know about vampires, right? We’ve established this?” He replied, sliding the fabric gently off of one shoulder. Elliot couldn’t stop his eyes as they drank in the expanse of skin, smooth and shining in the moonlight. His mouth watered.

Owen went stiff. “Wait, right now?!”

He was only half-conscious now, hungry pit in his stomach slowly eclipsing his mind. “Um… duh?”

“I thought we were about to kiss.” Owen panicked. “Did I misread the situation? Were you not flirting with me?”

Elliot snapped right back out of the trance. He searched Owen’s eyes. _What._ He regarded the other carefully. “I said you were handsome. That doesn’t have to be flirting.”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re right.” He sounded disappointed.

Elliot tapped his finger, thinking. _I might as well give him a good time before draining him,_ He figured, selfishly. “Do you… wanna kiss first?” Nothing about this was normal, but it _so_ beat kicking rocks.

“I actually do? Is that a weird thing to want from someone who’s about to kill me?”

“I’ve killed a lot of people and no one has asked me to kiss them before.” Elliot confirmed. “So yeah, pretty weird.”

There was that giggle again, thoroughly mixed with fear.

Elliot's insides fluttered. What the actual fuck? Was this guy insane?

Then Owen was surging forward, wrapping his arms around Elliot’s shoulders. It squashed and warmed him in a way that was so pleasant he almost rethought the entire feeding thing. Maybe he could live off of this alone.

But of course that would be ridiculous.

Owen’s mouth caught him by surprise. It was blazing hot.

He sucked in a breath. Something distantly nostalgic bled into his chest, like a half-remembered dream. A flashing vision of brightness and warmth whirled around him before quickly fading. His world muted again, leaving him with one thought: _I’m alive._

Owen pushed against slightly parted lips, unaware of whatever had just happened. Elliot vaguely sensed the taste of cinnamon against his dulled taste buds. It jolted him into the present and he promptly kissed back. He thought Owen was hot before, but now Elliot felt like he was burning up.

He didn’t know where he found the energy to return the kiss, honestly. Whatever blood he did have from his last meal was working overtime to flush his face. He unthinkingly welcomed Owen’s tongue into his own mouth for a moment. Like an idiot.

It turned out to be a very good mistake. Owen’s tongue was as painfully hot as the rest of him.

He was burned from the inside out, like a fire-poker sizzling across the roof of his mouth.

A very _attractive_ fire-poker.

Elliot melted into the pain.

If Owen heard him crying out, he didn’t stop. Just moaned and pushed in deeper.

Okay, that made everything worth it. That small sound was worth every risk he was taking. Elliot pressed forward, accidentally slamming Owen against the wall.

He winced, yelping like a kicked puppy.

That sounded good, too. Elliot dove in, past caring about his mouth being burned off by Owen’s searing heat. He sucked in a breath. _I’m alive._ He licked across Owen’s waiting tongue.

More soft little moans echoed off the empty walls. Elliot was suddenly glad he'd hesitated on this kill.

 _I'm alive._ He licked over the roof of Owen's mouth just to feel him shake against the wall.

When they pulled apart, Owen panted, collapsing against Elliot's shoulder.

He froze. _How can he be so comfortable with me?_ He took a moment to breathe normally. “...How was it?”

Owen laughed into Elliot's shoulder. “Really cold. How about you?”

“Fucking _painful.”_

“Oh. I’m sorry.” What the hell was this guy apologizing to him for? He was about to die at Elliot’s hand. It should be the other way around.

“No,” He cursed himself for being sentimental all of a sudden. “It’s just… your body heat is burning me, I'm pretty sure.” He thought for a moment. Well, if he was going to go all the way emotionally with this nobody, then he did have one question. “Did kissing me… did you… did it feel like I was dead?”

Owen sat up, frowning face coming back into view. “What?”

“You said it was cold.”

“Um… I haven’t kissed a dead person," He said lightly. "So… I don’t know.” Owen was disgustingly diplomatic. Elliot didn’t need that shit.

“But you’ve kissed alive people before?” He prodded. He didn’t know why this mattered so much, but it did. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t. “Was it different?”

Owen’s face went pensive. “I have. Um… yeah. It was different.”

Elliot deflated. He breathed out. Air passing through a husk.

“Not like _dead,_ though.” He encouraged. “Just different.”

He looked up hopefully. Why was he so easily affected by this one boy?

“Like I said, cold.” Owen’s fingers moved and twirled while he tried to find the words. Elliot watched the movement, mesmerized. “Like… ice. Not like dead. You know? Like alive ice.”

He nodded. “I guess.” That wasn’t satisfying at all. But he didn’t really know what he wanted Owen to say.

A warm hand cupped Elliot’s cheek. "What are my odds of survival now?"

He recoiled from the slight burn before making a conscious decision to lean into it. He regarded the human curiously. "Still low." He lied.

“Can I try to convince you otherwise?” Owen smiled.

Elliot raised an eyebrow.

"Kiss me again."

Okay, maybe one more kiss wouldn’t hurt. Well, it would. That boy was like kissing an oven. But it would be worth it. He could stop anytime, he told himself. It wasn’t like he was getting too attached to Owen or anything. No, that would be dangerous and he absolutely wouldn't let himself do that.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I haven't read Twilight ha
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter @All_the_Queer


End file.
